


There is a first time for dying

by Cassiara



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicide, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:04:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassiara/pseuds/Cassiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By naming him Albus Severus Harry had cursed his son to a life of unrequited love, where the depression came from is anyones guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is a first time for dying

The first time Albus heard his dad talking about how he was named after two of the greatest headmasters of Hogwarts he felt proud and reassured. It made being sorted into Slytherin easier, although meeting Scorpius was what made it good. 

The first time Albus felt it he was thirteen, lying in his bed next to Scorpius in the Slytherin dormitory and all he wanted to do was reach out and intertwine his fingers with those of the boy lying next to him. He didn’t know why he wanted to, or how to explain the need he had to do it, but he knew he couldn’t. Knew Scorpius wouldn’t want him to. Third year carried a lot of first for Albus, all of them with Scorpius. The boys got drunk of firewhisky left over from their parents new year parties, and Albus secretly brought two bottles with him home after Christmas. Drinking just a little each night to help him shut of his head and go to sleep. At Easter the boys bought a pack of cigarettes of a seventh year student, and smoked them in secret behind the greenhouses. They both got in the habit of it, and would sneak out whenever they could to get their fill. After nearly getting caught by a teacher Scorpius stopped, but Albus had grown addicted to the calming effects of the nicotine so he continued on his own. 

When Albus was fourteen he was wondering why he loved getting hugs from Scorpius so much. Asking himself why they made his heart flutter and his day brighter. He decided it didn’t really matter as long as the hugs didn’t stop. Fourteen was also the year Albus realised he probably had depression. Scorpius found out about him drinking to sleep properly, and helped him stop it. Saying that if Albus needed to drink he should never do it alone or on weekdays. The boys got drunk a lot on the weekends, but Albus never drank alone after that. What he did do was cut himself. The first time it had just been curiosity. Some strange fascination of what would happen if he used the needle of his slytherin pin to scratch at his skin. After a while the harming became an addiction too, something to help him focus his thoughts and calm down. 

The first time Albus realised he’d never had a crush on a girl he was fifteen, listening to Scorpius talk about Penelope with the other boys in their dorm. A strange feeling in his stomach he decided it wasn’t important to have a crush, because being friends with Scorpius was all he needed. The boys didn’t drink as much this year, mostly because Scorpius was busy dating Penelope. Albus kept his promise not to drink alone, but he kept up with the smoking and the cutting. The first everyone knew about; the second no one would ever know if the arsenal of glamours Albus had learned did their job. 

Albus admitted to himself that he was gay when he was sixteen; crying silently into his pillow because he knew Scorpius wasn’t. It was a lonely feeling, and he felt like it was somehow wrong. Scorpius was still dating Penelope, leaving Albus with a lot of alone-time. He tried to fill his time with books, something that had always worked before. Somehow though, books were no longer able to catch his attention. He had trouble focusing on schoolbooks as well, staying up late at night to study and waking up early in the morning from the stress that translated to his dreams. He thought about talking to the nurse about getting a sleep potion, but figured it would be more trouble than it was worth. 

When Albus was seventeen he was treasuring his friendship with Scorpius above all else, refusing to let himself want more. The relationship with Penelope had ended, and although Albus felt bad he was happy to have his friend back. Hiding his depression and self-harm became harder when the other boy had more time for him, but he managed. The last year of school was stressful with all the schoolwork, and Albus no longer went anywhere without his blades. Needing to always have the option to run away to a bathroom to let off some steam. 

The first time Albus told anyone he was gay he was eighteen and had graduated Hogwarts. After telling one person the rest of his family and friends came soon after. He furiously denied liking anyone, how could he? When he didn’t let himself think about it. He didn’t really let himself think about much of anything those days. Always cutting or smoking a cigarette when the thoughts came lurking. His first year out of Hogwarts was also the first year he admitted to needing help for his mental health, so he went to a mind healer. The help seemed to have the opposite effect though, and after six months of potions that made him feel like a fog was surrounding his thoughts and a failed suicide attempt he told the healer he was fine, and quit going. 

When the boys were nineteen and Albus told Scorpius the boy was the reason he realised he was gay, he was so wasted he’d almost forgotten it the next day. Almost. He quickly wrote the other boy in a panic, explaining how it had been a teenage crush and that he’d been over it for years. Scorpius brushed it off, saying it was nothing.

When Albus was twenty he watched Scorpius move in with his girlfriend, and he cried, finally admitting to himself that he was in love with the man. And that he had been for years. He passed his exams at university by some miracle, seeing as he hadn’t been at school for a year. 

At twenty-one Albus had problems differing between hurting from unrequited love and his crippling depression. He wanted a breakdown, to fall off the fence between sane and insane and just relax. Fighting depression made him tired. Fighting thoughts of Scorpius made him tired. Life made him exhausted.

On his twenty-second birthday Albus remembered his dad telling him proudly how he’d named him after the two greatest headmasters Hogwarts had ever had, at the time he had believed him. Of course, now he knew better. He’d been named after two tragic lovers. Dumbledore, whom, as far as Al could tell, had fallen for Grindenwald in his younger years. He knew Dumbledore had defeated him, but he’d never dated again. He’d never moved on. And Severus Snape, whom had spent his entire life in love with a girl who hated him more and more as the years went by. He was named after two unrequited lovers, and he couldn’t help but feel like his name had marked him as cursed from birth. Of course, he was also a Potter, who were known for only ever truly falling in love the one time. Staying with the partner they found in Hogwarts for the rest of their lives. Albus wondered if his depression was just a gift given to him by the universe, or if his namesakes had passed down some sort of insanity curse as well. 

Albus didn’t want to make it to twenty-three. He was tired, he was alone and he was slowly losing his mind. At least that’s what it felt like. People around him had noticed by now, and he knew they were worried. For some unexplainable reason that made him mad, he didn’t want them to worry. Didn’t want them to care. Albus wanted to be gone, but he didn’t want those left behind to hurt. He did eventually make it to twenty-three, and though he knew he should feel proud or relieved all he felt was empty. 

When his depression stole the last thing holding him back, the belief that him dying would hurt those he loved more than him being alive would, Albus was still twenty-three. He threw on the invisibility cloak he’d borrowed from James and walked into a pharmacy. He had the pills for weeks, thinking he would never really take them, but not wanting to throw them out either. 

He never really planned it, never made a will or wrote a letter. He just got out of bed one day, fetched a glass of water and his pills. Slowly, carefully and calmly he swallowed one pill at a time. 

Albus never made it to twenty-four.


End file.
